


Cold Hands, Warm Heart

by pinkoptics



Series: Genoshan Husbands [3]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Cherik is Canon, Erik Has Feelings, Erik is a Sweetheart, Genosha, Genoshan Husbands, M/M, Post-X-Men: Dark Phoenix (Movie), soft erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22040440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkoptics/pseuds/pinkoptics
Summary: Charles has cold hands, which is something that’s more significant for Erik than one would think.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: Genoshan Husbands [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586476
Comments: 32
Kudos: 155





	Cold Hands, Warm Heart

**Author's Note:**

> A soft little slice of life fic set in Genosha post-xmdp. Mostly fluffy and sweet, with twinges of angst. Charles is still healing and Erik is there for him.

Erik handed Charles a steaming mug of tea. As the foggy tendrils curled up into the air, Charles embraced that mug in a manner Erik had become accustomed to seeing each day. Charles gently wrapped his strong fingers around the mug, closed his eyes and released a soft sigh. As the warmth began to seep through the ceramic and into his fingers, the corners of his mouthalways quirked up. It didn’t matter what mood he was in, this small ritual never failed to bring, at the very least, the smallest smile to Charles’ lips. This was the reason that Erik, without fail, brought Charles at least one cup of tea each day, if not more. His smiles, which had once seemed to come so easily, were now much harder to elicit. Whatever Erik could do to bring them forward, he would do. Always.

The tea was not only a soulful comfort, but a practical one. Charles had cold hands, exceptionally cold hands. It did not matter if it was summer, winter, or any season in between, Charles’ hands were like ice. It went a long way to explaining some of his fashion choices over the years - the cardigans, the layers, the sweater vests - but also the way he savoured the first moments the warm cup was touching his fingers. This was something that Erik had known about Charles from almost the very first. He could still remember the way he had startled when Charles had slid his hands under his then favoured turtleneck for the first time. It had made him yelp in what he had considered a completely undignified manner. It had also broken the tension and they had had a good laugh before things had gotten decidedly more heated. No part of Charles had been cold by the end of that evening.

In a strange sort of way, Erik found Charles’ cold hands more comforting than any cup of hot tea. As much as so many things had changed, too many of them drastically and for the worse, some things had not. Some things had been the same since the very beginning - Charles’ cold hands and, somehow, against all fucking odds, the way they felt about each other.

“Penny for your thoughts?” In the time that Erik had been lost in contemplation, Charles had sipped his tea, and placed it down on the sill of the front window he had been gazing out of before Erik had joined him.

Chuckling, Erik took Charles’ hands in his, adding to the warmth they had already borrowed from the mug. “Are you saying I should start charging?”

Charles quirked an eyebrow, “Is that a deflection?”

Trust, sadly, was one of the things that had changed drastically and for the worse. He certainly did not blame Charles for that, or for the occasional sharp quip that expressed that were undoubtedly painful feelings lodged deeper within. It would take time to loosen those feelings, eliminate them, but Erik could be an incredibly patient man when the goal was worthwhile.

“Not at all.” He turned one of Charles’ hands in his so that he could press a kiss into the palm. He then rested Charles’ fingers against his temple. He didn’t miss the small flicker of surprise that graced Charles’ features. As many times as Erik had said that he had nothing left to hide from Charles, that he was welcome in the one place he had not been welcome in some time, Charles clearly still struggled to believe it.

_Come in._

Charles did. It was a feeling that was becoming more and more familiar. Erik did not have the words to describe it. He was not poetic and could not make the grand comparisons it richly deserved. He could, however, say it was gentle, it was warm, it was comforting— like a hot mug of tea. In barely any time at all, Charles had read his surface thoughts and was withdrawing. Erik had assured him, the first few times, that he could stay longer but he had declined. There were things, it seemed, that Charles was not yet ready to know. Erik could not blame him for that either. There were a great many things in his head he had no desire to remember.

There was humour, though, in those gorgeous blue eyes - another thing that had not changed in the slightest. “Are my hands really _that_ cold?”

“There is not enough yarn in the world, to knit enough mittens, to keep them warm.”

That won him a smile. “Just as well, I don’t think I’ll be going outside today.” Charles gestured to the window, which thus far had captured none of Erik’s attention. True enough the field and trees were ladened with snow that had not been there the night before. It had fallen heavily in the day’s darkest hours, but the sky was clear now and the rising sun was making everything sparkle brilliantly. It was largely untouched, save for a few animal tracks, as those who took care of clearing it were likely still tucked up in bed, enjoying the last vestiges of sleep afforded by a lazy Sunday morning.

“Is that so?”

“As far as my chair is concerned, it might as well be an avalanche.” Charles gestured down at the wheels. “A pity... not only now, mind you, but every first snowfall. I used to so enjoy being one of the first to walk through it back in Westchester. One of the few things I deigned to rise early for.”

Charles was still smiling, pleased with poking fun at his own sleeping habits, and there was no bitterness in his tone. That particular wound was a very old one now. How Erik had ever been forgiven for it, he did not know. Cold hands, warm heart.

“Schatz... for all your fancy degrees, I think you’re forgetting something terribly obvious.”

Before Charles could respond, Erik levitated his chair long enough to make his point, and then let it settle.

Charles rolled his eyes. “I know how much you have to do today. I hardly think you need to be floating me around—”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Charles. There is absolutely nothing I need to be doing more than that.”

This was the one thing that had changed drastically and for the better.

_You come first._

_You will always come first._

He sank all the gravity, all the sincerity, all the love, into the thoughts that he could. The sheen that came over those gorgeous blue eyes told him that Charles had felt it.

Charles cleared his throat, “Well then... I don’t suppose you have a few spare pairs of mittens lying around then, do you?”

He did.

For Charles, he always would.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I can’t get enough of my soft Genoshan Husbands.


End file.
